Chapter 26

On the wrong side of the river on an unknown planet.

Ureeblay moved closer to the fire circle for better light. He got up on his knees with the sticky, exposed fish skull between his legs. The upper and lower jaws near the bottom of the snout were broad, straight, and his hand-and-a-half long across the front. At the corners of the mouth, the jaw line turned sharply back and from the bend to the jaw hinge the rows of teeth of each jaw was about two of his hands long.

Using his retouching tine, he carefully pried free the right side of the lower jaw at the joint. Turning the grisly skull that was thrice as big as his own head between his knees, the young man had an easier time freeing the left jaw joint. He placed his retouching tine onto the woven mat back by his right, moccasin-covered foot.

He turned the skull back over with his left hand; with his other hand, Ureeblay picked up the freed lower jaw and started to move it and the sharp teeth to his right. The slightly slippery skull started to slide out from between his bare legs toward the fire-ring.

The young man reacted—moving his right hand toward the fish skull, then he thought of the wickedly sharp blades in the jaw he was holding. The tip of one of the teeth brushed against the bladder near the top of the eye sockets as he spread his bare knees apart to get them away from the jaw full of teeth. He straightened up and pulled his right hand and the sharp teeth back, but it was too late.

A thin stream of fluid jetted out and away from the partially cleaned skull in a high arc. Over the soft fluttering of the sacred flames, he could hear the sound of the fluid hitting the matted grass near the closest rock in the fire-ring.

Ureeblay quickly put the lower jaw—teeth down—on the grass away from him to his right. Then he lifted the skull up with both hands, tilting it back to try to stop the streaming mysterious fluid. The fluid arced higher as he raised the skull, splattering across the closest hot stone of the fire-ring. A small cloud of steam mushroomed up from the rock as the fluid stream traveled into the edge of the sacred fire.

Bright, white light burst into being as a steady, white flame started to climb up the arc of liquid toward the source. Across the sacred fire, the wolf jumped to her feet, growling as her honey-colored hackles rose up all along her spine.

Startled and scared, Ureeblay jerked his torso back from the approaching white-hot threat and dropped the skull to his left. The arc of fluid moved away faster than the brilliant white fire could climb—the rising flame went out. The skull hit the grass, bounced once and landed on the left side of the nostrum beside the big, spiny fin spread open on the turf.

With a bright white WHUFF, the steam coming from the hot, splattered stone in the fire-ring exploded in an upward roll of white flame; Ureeblay landed on the butt of his kilt further back from the fire. His hands went behind his torso and stopped his shocked body from falling onto his back in the turf.

The remaining fluid on the top and outside of the stone as well as in the grass next to the rock burned white, the flames illuminating one side of the clearing and casting shadows around the tops of the honeysuckle on the other side of the thicket.

The wolf was dancing around on her side of the fire-ring, not taking her eyes off the white flames. When they started to die down, she eased herself around the outside edge of the clearing and stopped with her tail to the opening in the thicket and the darkness beyond.

"What just happened?" Ureeblay asked, looking at the wolf. The startled young man realized he was breathing rapidly through his open mouth—his heart beating as if he'd just run down to the bank of the Toolie and back as fast as his feet could carry him.

Absentmindedly, he stretched out his left moccasin and managed to right the fish skull, He didn't see any more of the fluid coming out of the thick bladder, but he did see a big stain across the membrane of the moth-wing-shaped fin spread out on the turf to his left.

He wondered if the rest of the fluid in the bladder was going to explode into flames. Once at congregation, a shaman exhaled two huge gouts of fire during some night ceremony that Ureeblay didn't remember anything else about. The young man did recall the shaman breathed out over a stick with a few thin wraps of burning skyvine on it. Now the young man realized the burning skyvine must have ignited whatever the shaman had blown out of his mouth.

In this case, Ureeblay figured, the sacred fire lit the streaming liquid when the stream entered the fire. The vapor coming off the hot rock must have contacted the sacred flame in some way he didn't see, causing the vapor to burst into flame, similar to the shaman's trick. If he kept the bladders away from the sacred flame and didn't allow any of the fluid from the bladders to contact fire, things should be safe.

He hoped.

Still, he quickly glanced about, taking in everything to see if anything else was burning. There were only tiny, blue-white flames on the outside of the stone now, but a bright white flame burned consistently up from turf where the liquid first landed. The twisted grass blades reminded Ureeblay of a burning wick coming out of melting tallow held inside a crafted lamp bowl—perhaps a hollowed, flattish stone, or an upturned land-snail shell, or the deep, upturned half-shell of a three-bar mussel.

However, this flame was so much brighter than any lamp he'd ever seen—and the flame burned white, bordering on light blue at the base. Ureeblay found the pure, continuous flames were mesmerizing to watch. Now that his initial shock and fright were over, gazing into the white flames gave him a sense of comfort for some reason.

He was feeling a growing sense of weird calm in the presence of the pure flames. Giving his head a shake, Ureeblay looked away from the mysterious white fire and back over at the big pectoral fin on the ground. There was enough bright light cast from the flame springing up from the wick-like grass that even with the skull shadow angling across the fin, he was able to see the iridescent play of colors from the thin sheen of fluid coating the membrane. That iridescence reminded him of the beautiful mother-of-pearl coloring on the inside of the shells of three-bar mussels and sheep mussels.

Ureeblay knew the flesh of both those mussels was good to eat; some people used the shells of the three-bar for the tallow bowl of lamps. The raised bars on the shell that gave the mussel its name kept the upturned shells stable. Even Ureeblay knew it was important to put the shell lamps up out of the reach of small children. While the fire might attract little hands, the front edges of the shells could be very sharp and if not ground smooth just as much a danger as the flame. In fact, the shells could be so sharp that some people preferred the shells of three-bar—and especially sheep mussels—instead of knapped-flint edges for some slicing uses.

Ureeblay knew his mother always was one of the first women to explore a new stretch of sandy or muddy creek looking for three-bar and sheep mussels because of the pearls that she might find inside the shells. When he helped, Ureeblay was happy for her to keep any pearls he might find, as long as his mother cooked or fried the resulting meat she harvested. He enjoyed hunting for the mollusks with her just to see the excitement on his mother's face when they pried the shells open and discovered a pearl hidden in the soft flesh.

He knew that pearls were one of the things women coveted for adornment—strung on a necklace, hung from a pierced earlobe, or sewn onto celebration clothing. His mother had a good reputation in all the camps of their clan for her attention to matching sizes, shapes, and colors of any pearls she used in ornamentation on the clothing she created with the supple skins she cured.

Giving his head another shake to bring him back to the here and now and hoping to regain the immediacy of his feelings, Ureeblay sat up straight and looked over at the alert wolf illuminated by the sacred fire and the mysterious bright, white flame dancing over the wicking grass.

"Now ... just what have the spirits put into my path?" he asked the wolf in his low voice as he leaned over until he was on his hand and knees on the turf. Ureeblay moved close to, but not over the magnificent fin beside the remains of the big, triangular fish head. He carefully reached out to the fin and touched his index finger to the surface of the fluid.

Bringing his fingertip close to his face, he studied the film on his skin. He sniffed it, smelling almost no odor he could name. Ureeblay rubbed the moisture against the pad of his thumb—oily. The fluid was some kind of fish oil—pure sunagle fish oil. Was this what gave the scales and the fin membranes their sticky nature? As he continued to rub his fingertip over the pad of his thumb, he noticed the slick quality didn't diminish, but did not become sticky. The fine-textured oil didn't leave a grimy feeling on his skin that his hands and fingertips felt when he got turtle, sow, or cooked meat greases and fats on his skin.

Slowly the oily film seemed to be absorbed into his skin. Ureeblay wondered if his fingertips would burn white if some spark touched his skin.

The young wolf eased her way around to his left side, keeping clear of the big pectoral fin on the grass, the fish head, and the fire circle. She intently watched what he was doing, but seemed satisfied to keep her distance instead of getting her head right up to the fin and the fish skull to sniff everything over.

Seeing a good deal of the membrane on the big pectoral fin already had oil on the surface, Ureeblay tore a handful of grass out of the turf and twisted the blades together. Using his twist of grass, he spread the remaining spilled oil over the rest of the membrane until the whole fin reflected a soft shimmer of the light from the sacred flames in the fire circle and the remaining white flame coming up from beside the fire circle. The wolf continued to watch, well out of his way. However, now the very tip of her tail was moving in the grass.

Satisfied with the coating of oil on moth-wing shaped fin, he tossed the twist of grass onto the turf supporting the white flame. Ureeblay noticed there was no loud whuff this time as the twist of grass caught and another white flame burned next to the fire-ring. He wondered if that was the difference between the liquid oil and the vapor or steam from the oil—while the liquid caught fire, the steam burst into a brilliant cloud of white-hot fire.

Ureeblay didn't want to test that idea or find out tonight if his skin would burn now that he rubbed the fish oil into his thumb and fingertip. However, he would get a piece of babbit intestine out of his supplies and see if he could get the remaining oily fluid from the bladder into a length of that before he went to sleep. He didn't want to waste any of the amazing stuff, or let it run out and pose the threat of fire in his camp.

Ureeblay did have a small piece of rawhide he used as a funnel now. In addition, the second evening after leaving the wolf pack camp, he began fashioning a pair of tongs. When the girl with eyes the color of the clear sky had come to him the night before in his second life, she sat down on the other side of his sacred campfire. Then, the exotic-looking girl disclosed to Ureeblay how to fashion better tongs. However, the whole time he could only see her face, her arms, and hands in the light of the campfire; he had no idea what her body might look like.

At first, he did not understand her language; however, the more she talked to him and he tried to make himself understood to her, the more he began to understand what she meant and her strange way of forming sounds. At the time, Ureeblay was certain the World Mother was using the sacred golden-yellow flames between them to weave a bit of Her magic so he and the blue-eyed girl could understand each other.

It took time for the girl to show him how to work the wood. His mother would be proud of his manners the whole time the young woman was in his presence.

Recalling his amazing second-life lesson the night after her visit, Ureeblay used the wedge end of his antler hammer as a maul to split the center out of a straight, green, elm limb. He created a flat rib or slat of wood less than a quarter of a finger thick and longer than his forearm. Next, he used his newest turtle shell to boil water.

The young man centered the rib over the top of the shell in the rising steam. When he thought the wood was hot enough, he started to bend the middle of the rib partially around a two-finger thick stick of maple to form an elbow in the rib. Then he steamed the partially bent rib he was forming again to keep it hot and supple. After he'd bent the two arms of the rib into a vee, he was able to submerge what would the hinge of his tongs in the boiling water for a while. Taking the elm rib out of the turtle shell, Ureeblay continued forming the hinge. He slowly bent the rib farther around the stick a little bit at a time, boiling the forming hinge of the tongs between bending sessions.

Ureeblay remembered the girl pointing out the need to check at every boil to make certain he didn't break any of the grains in the wood as he bent the elm rib around the stick. Ureeblay boiled and formed the elm until he bent the arms of the tongs parallel to each other. Then he tied the two arms of the tongs together at the center and put the hinge back into the boiling water.

After a time Ureeblay took the hinge out of the boiling hot water and submerged the tips of the arms. Once the young man had the ends of the tongs softened, he placed another two-finger-thick stick between the two ends, two fingers wide back from the tips.

The young man used the antler wedge of his hammer and a large, square stone to work the flat tips of elm together against either side of the stick near the tips. His goal was to bend the two tips of the tongs so together they would form a circle when he closed tongs.

Pressing the tong arms around the maple stick and then boiling the elm wood, the young man pressed and boiled and pressed again, carefully bending the arms around the stick. With the tong arms finally formed tightly around the stick, Ureeblay then tied a sinew binding around the joined wood on both sides of the stick near the tips of the tongs. Placing the tips of the tongs on the rocks of his fire circle so the sinew and boiled wood would dry and shrink together, he was done for the evening and pleased with what he'd accomplished using the mysterious girl's instructions.

Two nights later, last night, with the sinew dry and shrunk tight and holding the maple stick firmly between the now semi-circular formed tips of the tongs, he cut the bindings. Ureeblay removed the two spacing sticks—from the hinge and the circular opening near the tips. Then he boiled the hinge again so the tips of the tongs opened until they wanted to stay four-finger-widths apart from each other when he put no pressure on the arms to close the elm tongs.

Happy with this new technique, Ureeblay tied two rawhide loops around the arms. By moving the rawhide from near the elbow hinge toward the front of the tongs, the tips closed together.

Then the young man shaved and whittled the arms on one edge of the circular opening near the tips. When he was done, Ureeblay placed a section of intestines inside the circle and rolled the open end of the gut back down over outside of the circular edge of the tongs. Once he moved the rawhide loops back from the tips toward the elbow, the two arms of wood tried to separate. That tension kept the end of the intestine opened.

Ureeblay created the small funnel to fit down into the mouth of the intestine. Using his flint burin, he put two holes in the top of the funnel, across from each other. Tying a loop of rawhide between the two holes, the young man was able to secure the funnel down in the intestine opening by putting the rawhide loop over the tips of the tong arms. The funnel would keep the intestine from slipping off the tongs when he poured fat, or in this case fish oil, down through the funnel.

Once the elm tongs were completed, he thanked the spirits and the World Mother for allowing him to remember his time with the mysterious girl in his second life. Ureeblay realized he could recall clearly her riveting blue eyes seen in the sacred second-life firelight, and that she pronounced her words in strange ways.

Now, in the honeysuckle clearing, the funnel and tongs worked perfectly and he managed to pour the remaining three-quarters of the sunagle fish oil from the bladder into the tied-off length of intestine.

Ureeblay found the fish oil was fine enough that some of the fluid wanted to seep out of the intestine. He was tired and sleepy, but wanted to save as much of this amazing sunagle fish oil as he could. He wiped the outside of his tied intestine now holding the oil with a big twist of grass. He put the twist on top of three of the stones in the fire-ring and touched a burning twig to the grass wick.

In the bright white light of the burning, impromptu fish-oil wick, Ureeblay examined how the now empty bladder sat partially inside the opening in the fish skull. The young man came up with a plan and turned the skull upside down. He used his antler hammer wedge inside the center of the upper jaw between the center teeth and smacked the pedicle side of his antler hammer with a rock he hadn't used to build the fire circle.

With a second, harder blow of the rock, he cleanly broke the upper jaw between the two middle teeth of the double row. At the same time, the snout end of the skull cracked a good way up the skull under the empty bladder. The young man could see it was going to be easy to separate the rest of the skull into two equal pieces.

Ureeblay then the used the hammer's wedge-end to pry apart the crack in the top of the upper jaw that was the roof of the mouth. With that section of skull free, he broke a few bridges of bone behind the eye sockets. The upper snout and the skull became two halves with a thin membrane holding the bottom of the empty bladder in place.

Ureeblay retrieved the lower jaw that was broad and straight across the front and then turned back sharply on each side to the hinge. Using the antler wedge of his hammer just behind the two front corners and hitting the pedicle side with the stone, he carefully separated the bottom jaw into three pieces.

Each piece was nearly the same length. The section of the front jaw had a short curve on each end that Ureeblay could cut off later. The two side sections didn't have the curve at the front, but each one did have the upturned jaw hinge he found he could use as a grip with the sharp teeth out in front of his hand, or sticking down below the edge of his wrist and running halfway back to his elbow.

Happy with how the skull and the jaws were coming apart, Ureeblay put the lower jaw pieces on his work mat and turned back to the nearly parted skull. After a quick inspection he used his fingers to free the empty bladder from the membrane holding the tissue in the hollow of the nostrum and up between the eye sockets.

With the empty, tough bladder removed, Ureeblay cut the top open and put the intestine of fish oil down into the bladder. Twisting the top closed, he tied it off with a small rawhide cord. Now, the young wolf was ready to start sniffing around his work. When she didn't try to lick any of the remaining oil from his hands, it dawned on Ureeblay that this oil from the sunagle fish might not be good to eat.

Not that he had any inclination to use it in his food—after all, it did burn white-hot Ureeblay reminded himself. He put the fish oil and jaw parts safely inside one of his woven grass envelopes and put the bag under the huge dorsal shell on the load bed of the drag. Then the tired young man got his sleeping mats and his bison hide robe off the drag.

Ureeblay arranged both of his old sleeping mats down on the grass between the fire-ring and his travel-drag. He remembered to put down the big belly plate where his head would rest, and then took off and folded his vest, kilt, and clout, putting them on top of the moccasins he'd wear tomorrow. That pile on the edge of the belly plate would be his headrest. He hoped with the ventral shell of the great-great-great-grandsire of all the crested-back snapping turtles close to his head, the grandsire would visit him and perhaps he would help Ureeblay solve the problem of getting across the grandsire's great river.

Ureeblay placed his bison robe on top of the two sleeping mats. Then he spread out his biggest utility mat on top of everything so the woven grass would be the surface that collected any dew. The mat covered his sleeping gear as well as part of the load on the drag not under the great-great-great-grandsire's massive shell. Ureeblay made certain the edge of the mat didn't hang over the fire circle,

As Ureeblay placed his weapons on the edge of his two bottom sleeping mats, near the fire-ring and under the dew mat, he considered how to secure the other four fish heads on the travel-drag tomorrow. He wanted the jaws full of teeth and the bladders of the bright-burning oil safe, and he wanted the rest of his gear on the load bed safe from the amazingly sharp teeth and the fish oil that burst into flame so easily, too.

He said his thank you to the World Mother, and the spirits of the sunagle fish for all that they had done. Then the young man decided that he would ask the spirits who provided him with so many opportunities if they might send him guidance in his second life tonight along with any lessons the grandsire might wish to share with him.

Folding back his bison robe before climbing into his bed for the night, Ureeblay wondered if he could use the fish oil in a lamp, like tallow, without the fire used to ignite the wick also causing the pool of oil in the lamp to burn. The part of Ureeblay that was still a boy wondered if hauling such a dangerous load that didn't contribute to their food supply was a wise thing to do.

Ureeblay the young man and budding trader saw the oil as useful on this journey, as well as being potentially valuable trade goods once he returned to the Welow Swongli. He was sure his mother and her friend the camp healer would know the best uses of the pure fish oil and have a good idea what it was worth in trade.

Ureeblay yawned, noticing the wolf seemed to be waiting for him to finish settling into his bedding so she could join him.

As he used a stick to bank the sacred fire for the night, the boy in him wondered that would happen if a certain someone with piggy eyes did eat food that contained sunagle fish oil—perhaps even lots of it. What would happen if that person decided to break wind across a splinter of burning wood to impress younger kids with the jet of flame he would think he could produce?

The women from the camps of the teepees used very hot, spicy red and green peppers in some of their cooking. Ureeblay loved that type of food. Everyone at congregation who ate their food learned the saying, shit fire. Perhaps if Achinay ate food with sunagle oil in it he would discover a completely new meaning to the saying.

Then it struck Ureeblay as he pulled the bison robe over his body that the two people he'd thought were his true friends in camp were best known for what happened when they broke wind—well, that and being lazy. He would see to it that when he returned, everyone would learn what Achinay had done on the bank of the Toolie.

As Ureeblay settled on his side, facing the glowing coals of the sacred fire, the young wolf nosed under the utility mat at his feet. Then, she crawled over the bison hide and up against his back.

It had been a very interesting day.

Ureeblay closed his eyes and began to form his thoughts before saying thanks to the World Mother...

With excitement bubbling up inside his body, it was all Ureeblay could do to hold himself in check and not break into a trot—even harnessed in his travel-drag. The Hurstmon Way had just crested what he discovered was the last in a series of rising, travel-length terraces in the forest. Two days before with Father Sun directly overhead, he and the wolf had forded the creek next to the Camp of the White Flame, as he referred to the place in his mind. The two traveling companions entered this mighty stretch of unbroken trees on the Warm side of the creek after spending two nights in the honeysuckle and brush corral.

Now, the late morning sky he could see up through the treetops was clear blue. The light breeze on his face brought fresh air smelling of the warm leaves on the tall maple trees around him and containing a hint of earthy loam, while feeling each soundless pad of his second pair of moccasins on the gravel helped focus him on his efforts between the poles of his travel-drag. He relaxed in the harness and extended his senses out into the trees around him as the drag ends of the long poles he gripped in front and on either side of his kilt-covered hips crunched over of the wide trail. That continuous, soft reverberation in his hands and ears added to the birdcalls, and the sound of the steady draft gently moving the boughs on both sides of the Hurstmon Way.

Part of his mind was aware of his new rawhide torque loosely tied around the base of his neck. The night before, Ureeblay finished attaching the two biggest babbit claws to the five-plaited cords of his hunting talisman. He used wet sinew threaded through the hole he'd drilled in the base of each two thick, index-finger long claws from front to back. With the last knot secured, he gave thanks to the World Mother for the lives of the prey animals he would encounter, as well as offering honor to the spirits placing opportunities in his path. Now the tips of the claws curved inward, toward each other, hanging halfway down on either side of the cord suspending the sheath holding his sliver of frozen lightning.

Having topped the last rise, Ureeblay could see the maple foliage on either side of the trail opening up out in front of him as the Hurstmon Way entered a small meadow—a headland meadow he realized from the view beyond. It was no wonder the young wolf had started trotting off ahead of him while they were still below the crest. Now, she was nowhere in sight.

Through the thinning trees, Ureeblay could see that the mysterious, wide Hurstmon Way turned sharply to his right halfway out into the grassy field he was approaching. Now that he was closer, the young man saw the remains of old tree trunks sticking up here and there in the grassy field from some past wildfire. There were also tall clumps of leafy bushes he'd never seen before scattered among the solitary trunks surrounded by the knee-high grasses.

Beyond the far edge of the fire meadow, the headland plateau dropped away and the vista of the Toolie valley spread out before him toward the Morn, the Warm, and to the Eve. From what Ureeblay could take in as he increased his harnessed pace, he could tell that the fire meadowland here on the plateau continued the whole way down from these heights and on, stretching out into the immense area of the flood flats below.

As he pulled his loaded drag along the trail into the fire meadow, off to his left Ureeblay could easily see the big river running parallel to his present course and perhaps half of a travel length away. Slowing down, he finally came to a stop, moving his hands to the cross bar of the drag as he stood there in harness. Still looking off to his left, the young man marveled at the sparkling deep blue water starting right at the high riverbank, which he could see in two places through small clearings in trees that bordered the Toolie. Out from the bank, there were small waves in the middle of the river under the bright blue, cloudless sky. He watched a huge flock of big, dark birds flying upstream near the far bank; some kind of geese Ureeblay figured.

Farther off to his front left, almost a full travel length upstream to the Warm he saw a plume of muddy water flowing out into the wide river. At that point, a deep stretch of the dark green forest hid the bank of the huge river, so he couldn't see the mouth of the tributary that joined the Toolie.

The young man was surprised at how quickly the blue water of the Toolie overcame the muddy water, seemingly swallowing it up. He realized that the flat meadowland and forest below was actually part of the valley floor formed by the tributary dumping the muddy water into the huge river. A quick look to his right confirmed that the forested valley continued out of sight to the Eve, and stretched back into the plateau to the Cool-Eve, of which this headland fire meadow was a part. His sweeping gaze also provided evidence that the last storm had very high winds, at least in this area—he could see the tracks of two separate, wide swaths of recently fallen trees through the forest on the other side of the meadowlands.